bloodshot
by haemao
Summary: Izuku Midoriya once lived in light. Not anymore. Izuku Midoriya once had hopes. Not anymore. maybe one day he can remember. But not right now. maybe he can find a loving family. but not today. one day, he'll see a tomorrow. but not right now.
1. prologue

It starts with a smile. It's not a happy smile, like the one you make when you eat your favorite food or when you're hanging out with your friends. It was a forced smile, but not the one you make at every family reunion and your favorite cousin hasn't showed up yet. it was not a smile you or me make. this smile was very carefully crafted of malice and anger. I call it a smile, but it was really a mask. a mask made to hide bubbling emotions rising to the top.

It was a mask that Inko midoriya wore.

Once, she loved her son. she really did. but then he turned four.

It starts with a doctors appointment. It was a fairly normal doctors appointment, like the one you go to when you have a slight cough and a sore throat and you think you might have a cold but you want to double check. Izuku told his mother that his head was hurting, and being the overprotective parent she was, they to the doctors.

There, he was told that he had a villains quirk. after all, only villains have quirks that cause unadulterated pain, right?

Once, he had a good childhood. but then he turned four.

It starts with many things, and I could describe this story beginning with many things. I could start it with the color of Inko's eyes the moment she lost everything she knew, or I could start it with the burn marks shaped like starbursts littering Izuku's arms. I could start this with a lot of things, but where this story truly starts?

Izuku used to have dreams, hopes, aspirations. But they were shattered to dust before he could even try to reach them.

Once, he had hope for the future. but then he turned four.

Of course, before you can know sadness, you need to know happiness. to truly know living in pain and suffering, you first must know light. Izuku certainly was born in light. Let's take a peek into his life before he was plunged into jet black darkness. So let's take a small glimpse of hope, shall we?

A small suburban town in the middle of mutufasu, Japan. A rich neighborhood and a poor one. An orphanage filled with misery, and a school filled with unqualified teachers. A nice apartment building. A hero's school made for the best of the best. A happy family, and a tired hero. Friends, pain, love, hate. A lie hidden behind a pretty face. A list of things that don't make sense. A hidden truth, and a bloody room. A glass fixed with silver tape and a happy ending. This is the story I am going to tell. Go ahead and draw the curtain back. You know what you're getting into. You can stop whenever you want. But that's the thing about stories isn't it? You get to choose to turn the page. So turn the page.


	2. Chapter 1- A chip in the glass

Izuku Midoriya ran towards his mother with his best friend, an ashen blond, in tow. Giggling and laughing, he smiled this wide smile, one that could rival the sun and lit up the room.

"Mom, mom look at what me and Kacchan found today in the park!"

"Shove it Zuku, I found it, I get to show Auntie!"

"Hey, that's mean Kacchan!"

Inko laughed at the two boys antics. Knowing them, the thing they wanted to show her would probably be something like a cool pine cone or a shiny rock. Arguing about something so trivial though, it was so like them. They would probably grow up to be great friends later in life.

"Well, why can't you both show me what you found?"

The two boys seemed to consider what Inko said before Izuku responded with,

"Well if Kacchan wants to show mommy first he can. I don't mind letting him!"

Katsuki almost seemed touched at this, but then his facial expression morphed back into its usual angry glower.

"Shut up you shitty nerd, I could've showed her anyways!"

"Don't swear Kacchan! Didn't your mom say that those words are bad?"

"Shut up!"

"You already said that!" Inko sighed. These two.. As well as they got along, this was getting a bit ridiculous.

"Didn't you two say you wanted to show me something?"

"Oh yeah,'Zuku made me forget."

"Hey!"

Katsuki then held up this sad, kinda dirtied figurine of All Might. Even though it was definitely old and faded, even someone like Inko knew who it was. In that day and age you'd have to be dumb to not know who he is, and with a hero fanatic son like Izuku? She certainly knew who the number one hero was.

" 'Zuku said you'd know how to fix it."

"Yeah! Could you please fix it? We want to share the figurine. Like, like one of those diaries you were talking about earlier where you share it with someone and, and you write down your thoughts but instead of a diary, it's an all might acton figure and i think it would be cool because when i brought up a shared diary with kacchan he said it was lame. Notthatithinkitslamethough, itsoundsprettycoolacuallybutyouneedtwopeopleandiwanttodoitwithkacc-"

" 'Zuku, shut up, I think Auntie gets it."

"Oh right! Sorry Kacchan. But can you fix it? Please?" Izuku then proceeded to whip out the puppy eyes. Even without them, Inko probably still would've tried to fix it. But like a rich man in a relationship, you don't need it but it certainly helps.

"Well, alright, I'll try."

The two let out this little cheer that lifted Inkos spirits just a bit. Well, then, she'd just have to fix this figurine really well huh? Just in time for katsukis fourth birthday too. How well timed.

* * *

"Wow, Kacchan, your quirk is so cool!" Small sparkles danced across his hands, popping like fireworks. The smell of burnt caramel wafted through the air gently like a summer breeze. What a perfect combination of quirks huh? Looking at the children playing, however, something felt… off. Almost like a picture frame that looks slightly askew or like that shadow that flies around your room that you can never quite see but you just know is there. She couldn't quite put her finger on it though. What was wrong? Was Izuku being more recluse? Or, or maybe was Tsukasa being louder? Why was it so hard to think? Something is wrong. Something feels wrong. What the hell is wrong with me?

**_Why was it so hard to think?_**

"Mommy? Are you ok?" It was Izuku. He had run over seeing that she looked in pain. She gave a weak smile in response to her son. She ruffled his hair in response and said, "Don't worry Izuku, mommy just has a headache."

"Are you sure?" Izuku's voice wavered a bit. "You looked kind of scary earlier." Her familiar green eyes, filled with warmth and love, for just a split second, turned dull. Yes, they were the same forrest green as earlier, and they still looked the same, but there was certainly something missing. Like it was missing a few values of color or just a few shades off green. Little, tiny, insignificant things you can't help but notice despite it being little, tiny and insignificant. Izuku definitely noticed this shift, and couldn't help but be worried for his mom.

"Yes, sweetie, I'm definitely fine. Don't worry about me, go play with your friends."

She was back. Her eyes were now the same glistening emerald shade as before, as if nothing had changed at all. She could think clearly again, and a smile was plastered onto her face. Izuku ran back to his friends, albeit hesitantly, and Inko was at peace again. This wouldn't be the last time Izuku saw those eyes.

* * *

Over the course of a few days, no, months, there was a shift in Inko Midoriya. It started with her memories. It was getting harder and harder for her to just remember certain things like what he had for lunch and where she put her phone. After a while, she started to forget big things like her own name, or her mother's face and how old her husband was. Huge chunks of memory started to go. Izuku watched as his own mother started to forget everything. Her name, his name, foods, places, inanimate objects. She had asked him what the lamp was called.

Then it was time. She could never keep track of time and would stare off into space for extended periods of time. Hours went by of Inko staring off at a wall or at the stove, and once Izuku. That scared Izuku because it was like she was looking at him but not? Like, she was looking through him at the most interesting thing in the world and he didn't matter at all. After that, he always made sure to stay out of her way when she slipped into oblivion.

Something Izuku noticed was that every time she couldn't remember where she put her keys and every time she couldn't recall something and everytime she stared off into space for hours, those damn eyes where back. Every time she couldn't remember his name or his face or where she put her keys, and everytime she forgot when his doctor's appointment was, she had those eyes. Those dull green eyes that were unseeing but at the same time saw everything. Was it the eyes, were her eyes the cause of her problems? It sounded so stupid, so ridiculous, but it was his only explanation.

He hated those eyes.

He missed his mom, he missed her so much. He wanted he back. And every time she did. She did come back. She would remember that her keys were on the coffee table and that her phone was in her bed. She remembered what the lamp was called and she remembered his name. She remembered. Sure, it took a bit longer and longer for her to each time, but she remembered. She knew his name was Izuku and she knew that his favorite food is katsudon and she knew that his favorite color was red, she knew, she knew, she knew, she knew, she knew. He still went to school on time every day, and she still made meals for him. And she remembered that his birthday was coming.

* * *

A few days before his birthday, he sat in his room, crying. His mom was, she was doing that thing again. With the eyes. He couldn't cry though. Heroes don't cry. All might never cried and Kacchan doesn't cry either. So he couldn't cry. But he was. He was crying these big blubbery tears in his dark bedroom. He missed his mom. She was here, with him, but she wasn't at the same time. It was his mom, but she wasn't…. He doesn't know how to describe it. Its her, but it's not her? His mom was that sweet lady everybody knew. Sociable, happy kind.. This.. wasn't her. This was a stranger in his own house with the face of his mom. He missed her and he wants her back. And she would come back. He knows it. He just doesn't know when.

Through his blurred vision, he saw streaks of red. His eyes were dry and he was exhausted but he just. kept. crying. He couldn't stop the tears running down his face and onto his clothes and it hurt and he wants the tearstostopbecauseithurtssobadandhiseyesaretiredan dhewantsittostopstopstopstopcryingheroesdontcryand- wait. Streaks of red? Where did those come from? With bloodshot eyes, he looks at his arm. He can see this pumping red and it's moving and it looks alive. He stares harder and his eyes are dry and they sting but he can see it. Its flowing and moving in these beautiful and intricate ways like rivers or ribbons and he just keeps looking at it. His eyes are burning now but its just so cool looking. Has this always been there?

He subconsciously raised his other hand up to his arm and touched it. It was still flowing and moving but it was changing? It flowed slower like it was thickening and he started to feel lightheaded. When it stopped moving altogether, he realized all to sudden what was wrong. He couldn't breath. Well, he could, but everything felt heavy, and his arm felt harder. His lungs seemed like they were frozen and stiff and he couldn't breath. Was it the streams? He quickly let go of his arm but it still wouldn't move. He kept yelling inside his brain for it to move, it has to go, I'm going to die here and- it moved. A bit too quickly it seemed. it was suddenly moving to fast, and now he had a different problem, the rivers were moving too fast and it felt like he was going to explode from the inside out and slow down slow down slow down- it did. It was slowing down, but now, he could control how fast it was going. He made it go about the same as it was earlier.

He had no idea what this was or what was going on but one thing was for certain.

Looks like Izuku got his quirk.


	3. Chapter 2- red stained glass

He sat there in his room a little longer, wondering what kind of quirk he had why was it red, and what happened and lots and lots of different things were running through his head but the main thing was that he wasn't dead, and he was ok and he wasn't hurt and he was fine. He was ok. He was hyper aware of the sudden pain in his eyes that wasn't actually sudden. Eye drops. He needed eye drops. Where did mom keep the eye drops? The bathroom cabinet in the second drawer. He got up feeling light headed from all the crying, or was it his new quirk? He couldn't tell. He found the eye drops and got them into his eyes, but then got a good glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looked _terrible._ He was still wearing his uniform for school. Inko rarely made time to buy new clothes for either on them. His hair was matted because mom never brushed his hair. It wasn't very high on her priority list for things to do when she wasn't in a spell. His face was a bit hollow because although his mom definitely feed him, she was staring off into space more often than not. But the most striking thing he noticed wasn't with his face or his small body but with his thoughts. A few months ago, before Kacchan got his quirk, quirks were _the_ most important thing to both of them. All he wanted was to be a hero but now….

Mom. all he thought about was his mom.

Even though his eyes were dry and they hurt and stung, fresh tears sprung to his eyes. If you listened closely, on a warm summer day, in the dead of night, you could hear it. A small boy, a bit too small for his age, slowly collapsing onto a cold bathroom floor, mourning for someone who was still alive. Bawling his eyes out. He hated this. Hated this so much. He wants his mom. He can't have her. She's not at home right now.

Even though she was just in the next room.

"Who's there?" a few quiet footsteps padded down the hall, passing the bathroom. Through his pained sobs he heard her go to the kitchen. After a few seconds, her ever familiar footsteps echoed through the silent hall again. He was still crying his eyes out. Mom. She was coming. Was she coming to comfort her? Please. He needed her so bad. Her footsteps stopped by the door. Just come in. He needs her. _I need her. _The door slowly slid open. There she was. But it wasn't. Her eyes were dead and unseeing, yet held everything possible. She had on her resting face, which was a small smile. It was a blank face topped off with a gentle smile but it hid _her._ This wasn't mom. It was a shell of her. Why was she here?

_A mask. She wore a mask to hold her real emotions._

A large kitchen knife was in her hand. Her large eyes came to rest onto Izuku, unseeing him. She saw him, but he didn't see _him._

"Who the hell are you?" despite her eerily calm face, her voice held all sorts of emotion. Anger. Confusion. Fear.

"M-mom?" he was scared now. He was scared when he couldn't breath just a few moments ago, and he was scared when Kacchan accidentally burned him with his quirk last week, and he was scared when mom couldn't remember his name for the first time, but this? This was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it though. Those times he was scarred mentally. He knew he would be fine even if he was afraid. But now, this, _this _was a different fear. Not-mom, the knife, his burning eyes, the cold floor and the hot air, everything felt _wrong. _Oh, this was _fear._

"Answer my question! Who the hell are you?!" she still had that blank expression, her face calm, but her voice was loud. The knife was now pointed at his face, hovering midair. When did her quirk get so strong? Why was there a loud pounding sound in his ears? The red streaks. They were flowing faster now. Slow down, dammit! They slowed. There were red streaks on his mom now. They were strangely slow.

"Mom, mom, it's me! Y-you remember me? P-please, mom!" Izuku pleaded with not-mom.

"I don't have kids. Answer the damn question!"

"I-I am your son! Mom!"

"How did you get into my home?"

"I-I-I live here!" The knife grew closer to his face. Oh, he was scared. That point looks sharp, doesn't it? His mind was racing. What can he do? He backed into the bathtub. The knife drew closer still. He had to think. Think, think, think think thinkthinkthink_thinkthink _what the hell can he do? He wants to live! Mom! Save him, save Izuku. The red. The red streaks. His eyes burned, but what other option did he have? Focusing past the dangerously close knife, he focused only on the red on not-mom. It was already slow, but it did hurt the most when it shifted suddenly, right? Please, go faster, go faster move faster! The red in his mom shifted suddenly, pumping faster and faster.

Not-mom let out a shrill yell of agony and the knife dropped on the floor. Something hot like tears but thicker ran out his eyes. When he blinked his vision was filled with red. It dripped out his eyes but now he could only see red and more pumping red, an artificial red, flowing and pumping with rubies and vermilion but more artificial . He rubbed his eyes and his vision returned for a little bit but now the crimson was all over his arm. He returned not-mom's streams back to normal and sprinted out of the small room. More hot fluid poured out of eyes, and blurred his vision with -mom quickly flung the knife at his leg with her quirk, all while maintaining the blank facade that was her face.

Now his eyes held more pain than before, but also a sharp pain in his leg. The streams at his leg were flowing out , moving faster as they gushed out his leg. Through his pain, he directed the red away from his injury, and around the hole. His leg instantly felt cold, but it hurt a bit less.

Sprinting out the door, he heard his mothers still familiar steps come quickly after him. The hot carmine liquid ran down his freckled cheeks and down his chin faster, and it felt like he was crying but worse. His leg still hurt and now it felt colder and colder. His sprint slowed, and started to hobble. Why was she chasing him? He was out now. Why did she want to hurt him in the first place? What was happening?

"Somebody! Please help! Please!" he was sobbing now. Tears flowed down his face, mixing with the hot red. He was grazed with another knife. Did she grab more? He didn't hear her grab more. When did her quirk get so powerful? Didn't he think this earlier? He screamed more. He collapsed on his lame leg, the one with the knife in it, and cried harder. His eyes were covered in liquid, but they felt so dry. Forget earlier, he was going to die now. He couldn't think, his brain shrouded in pain. Why was she so aggressive? Another knife pinned his arm to the ground. He yelled, but he didn't feel the knife at all. What? His throat grew horse but his little lungs kept pushing out air to keep yelling. He could feel more red enter his dimming vision. It was… flying? It hit his mother and suddenly, his mother hit the ground, constrained. The red in his mom was moving normally. Through the pumping in his ears he heard a familiar yell.

"Wh- Izuku? Izuku! Wait!"

He passed out. It looks like she finally remembered him. She always does. Right?

_Inko once loved her son. She really did. You can't love someone you don't know, however._

What a great early birthday present.


	4. Chapter 3- the wine glass

Every hero has a transmitter on their heros suit. It's a requirement for all heros, underground or not. After defeating a villain, It sends a signal and location to the nearest police station and alerts them to send restraints/ a cop car. From there, heroes can specify what types of restraints they'll need. Villains below D rank ( see pg. 102 for villian rankings) will need to be transported by hand to the police station, excluding vigilantes (see pg. 219 for vigilante information) and volatile quirks. If a hero is to not report every villain caught on parole, suspension of heroics license may be necessary.

-The Japanese Heroics Association (JHA) handbook on heroic law and conduct (pg. 24 on heroic transmitters.)

Aizawa Shouta was having a good day. He woke up, tired, but that was a given. He was always tired. It was pretty much his main character trait at this point. He got geared up, and went to Yueii to teach. Teaching aspiring heroes was not something that he thought he would ever be doing, but he's glad Nemuri forced him to do an interview. but, yeah, his students were a pain in the ass, and his friends are kinda annoying, but he had a good day. He went on parole, and there weren't many villains, so he was bored out of his mind but he supposes that's good. Less villains. He was having a good day. Halfway through his parole, he went on break to a convenience store, and his favorite canned coffee was on sale. He was having a good day. He got a good beat down on a b rank villain, so his parole wasn't totally boring. He was having a good day. His parole was almost over and was about to go home to his cat. He had some delicious leftovers for dinner. He was having a good day.

But then, he saw a little boy, around four, crying blood, and screaming bloody murder. He was having a good day. But this is the kinda shit that will haunt his nightmares. That did haunt his nightmares. He already has a hard time watching teenagers hurt themselves, but this? Hell no. there was a knife in his calf, and there were like 8 knives flying behind him, eerily glowing a soft green. A short woman was close after him, in a dead sprint. One of the knives flew forwards, and grazed his cheek, leaving almost no blood behind, actually. He collapses onto the knife leg, and wailes in agony, before breaking down into sobs. The green haired lady was a few feet away from the little boy, but she just stood there. A knife flew forward, and went clean through his arm, but there was no blood coming out. At least out of his wounds. There was tons of blood coming out of his eyes though.

Shouta had enough. He uses his quirk on the green haired lady, whose face was strangely blank. The knives clattered harmlessly to the ground, and he tackles her onto the floor. After she initially goes down, ha backs off of her and entangles her in his capture weapon. Her eyes are blank and hollow, like they're missing depth or like she's wearing cosplay contacts. The small boy was screaming something about his head hurting. Shouta tries to runs over to see if the kid is alright. He knows he isn't considering the copious amounts of blood that is pouring out of his tear ducts, but it's still procedure. Before he can even begin to go over to where he is, suddenly, the green haired lady shouts. Her eyes are no longer the same dull color, and instead a sparkling emerald hue.

"Wh- Izuku? Izuku! Wait! What's going on?" The boy is unconscious now, but red tears are still flowing out of his eyes. Oh, he's not activly producing blood now, but he's still crying normal tears. That's… Shouta shakes his head. He still has a job to do.

He pressed his earpiece transmitter and tried to speak into it. Before he can even begin to speak, the woman starts screaming again.

'Wait wait! Please, get my boy to the hospital! I don't know what happened, but please! Help him!" That was… odd. Normally attackers don't really care about their victims, but hey he's seen weirder. Shouta presses his transmitter again, and speaks into it this time.

"This is pro hero Eraserhead, I'm going to need an ambulance and a police car at my location. My ID is 572799."

A small electronic beep signals that the police received his message. He then went over to the boy to check his vitals. As he lets go of his quirk, the woman's quirk starts to go off again. He quickly activates it again, canceling hers. Ok, so he can't look away from the woman. He needs to help the kid and patch his leg and arm wound, which were blending now for some reason; but he also needs to keep his quirk activated on the woman. The one day he forgets to bring his quirk suppressant handcuffs is definitely today. He presses his earpiece again.

"Pro hero Eraserhead, I need backup or an EMT ASAP, there's a volatile quirk and an injured kid, I can't take care of both. My ID, again, is 572799." Another electronic beep is sounded, good. If there is one thing he hates most it's not being able to help. And boy howdy, does that kid need help. His eyes are burning, and he wants to let go, but he can't, not if he wants this kid to be safe. He hears sprinting, which means another hero is coming. He silently prays it's not endeavor.

"Woah, Shou, what the fuck happened here?" Shouta recognizes that voice. It's Pro hero Present Mic, or Yamada Hizashi, Shoutas best friend.

"No time to talk, I need you to check the kids injury's, I'm kinda stuck here." His voice was even and calm, but he was panicking just under the surface. Mic could definitely tell, but didn't call him out on it. Shouta was focusing on the woman before him, and couldn't spare a glance away. He could hear Hizashi jog to the boy.

"Fuck, these are some serious injury's. Do you have extra gauze, I don't think I have enough. Oh god, that's a lot of blood. Again, what happened here?" He tossed a roll of gauze at his friend, and he could hear a definitive yet soft thud as Hizashi caught it.

"I'm not sure what happened, it looks like this woman was chasing the kid. The kid's quirk seems to be activated though, it would explain the bleeding."

"Uh, yeah dude, there's blood coming out of his eyes, that's probably got something to do with a quirk." The woman seemed to want to say something, but stops herself midway through. She is silent for a little while, then begins to yell again.

" I don't know what happened either! Was I really chasing Izuku?" Shouta makes a mental note that the kids name is Izuku so that he doesn't have to keep calling him 'kid' in his thoughts. Apparently, the universe loves cutting him off, because before he can respond to the lady about Izuku, he could hear sirens approaching. Hopefully, the trained professionals can help treat him better that what Hizashi can pull off.

As the police and medics pull up, they load the woman into a police car, a quirk suppressant one, notably, and load the kid into the ambulance. Shouta can hear Hizashi give an assist report through his headset. He's trying to avert his attention away from the puddle of blood, but his eyes seem to gravitate towards it. He can't stop looking at it, like he's entranced. He wasn't focusing on the blood though, he just has this strange feeling of dread. It loomed over him, like a sheet of fog, but he shook it off. It was probably fine. He just hopes that Izuku would be alright.

In a dark room in the heart of the city, a man was washing dishes. He suddenly gripped a wine glass so hard it broke. All attention in the room was turned to him.

" [REDACTED], are you alright? That was quite a shatter." [REDACTED] pulled his hand away from the sink. He looked at his hand, covered in cuts from the glass. Pearls of blood beaded at the fresh cuts. They were instantly pulled away from his skin. [REDACTED] sighed.

"I am quite fine, not a scratch. Just a bad feeling is all." His voice was a touch tense.

A pair of striking red eyes look out the window. Yes. Not a single scratch. Not one at all.


	5. Chapter 4- a vase filled with flowers

He woke up. It was a nice and slow awakening like when you wake up from a long nap. It wasn't like a jolt like when you wake up from a nightmare, although this whole experience was kinda like one. Like a fever dream that won't go away, but oh, it was definitely real.

The first thing he noticed was that he was cold. Freezing cold. Like ice had broken through his skin and was now seeping into his bones. His toes felt like chunks of solid ice. The second thing he noticed was the bright white light shining into his eyes. Artificial and cold, they were so bright he could see it even though his eyes were closed. He didn't want to open his eyes. If the light was this bright now, how bright would it be when he opened them?

He opened his eyes. They were dry. And painful. The light was not as bright as he thought it would be, but that was probably because it wasn't directly above his face. The third thing he noticed was the steady beeping somewhere behind and to the right of him. It was set at a gentle, slow pace and was sort of a white noise like the murmur of people outside of his field of vision. He tried to turn his head to see where the beeping noise was coming from, and noticed the fourth thing.

A man was sitting next to his bed. His skin was pale and almost sickley, a stark contrast to his ink black hair and clothes. He would've thought that he was monochromatic or something if there wasn't a pair of bright yellow goggles on his head. He looked... unkempt, to put it gently. There were serious eye bags decorating his under eyes, and it looked like he hasn't slept for the last few centuries.

He suddenly shifted into a more upright position, and looked at Izuku. He took a little breath as if he was about to say something, but stopped himself. He looked like he was in thought, trying to think about what to say. Izuku beat him to it though.

"He-Hello." his voice came out a little bit scratchy and tentative. What would you even say to someone in this sort of situation? "I-It's nice to meet you?" his voice kind of faded out on the last word.

The man seemed to hesitate for a second before responding.

"It's nice to meet you too." He waited for a split second before adding on, "How are you feeling right now? Any pain?"

Was Izuku in any pain? His head hurt, and his eyes were sore, but other than some dull aches in his arm, leg and hand, not really. The main thing was that his head hurt and that he was really cold.

"I , uh, not really?" the man seemed surprised at that. Did Izuku say something wrong? He quickly backtracked.

"Well, no, I mean, my head hurts, and I'm cold. Really cold, actually. Also, my eyes kinda hurts, but other than that, yeah, not really. Also, where am I? It's super cold in here, and the lights are super bright. And, and, also, who are you? I don't think I've ever met you. My name is Izuku Midoriya, but you can just call me Zuku. Everyone does."

The man blinked, once, twice, three times. He was processing all of the information that just spilled out of his mouth.

"Well, you're in a hospital, for starters. The room is not that cold, actually, it's cold because you just lost a ton of blood, and my name is Eraserhead. I'm a pro hero."

His words were concise, but there was an underlying tone of… worry? Concern? Izuku wasn't really quite sure.

"Eraserhead? That's a cool name. I don't think I've ever heard of you before. And I know a lot of heroes. I watch the news a ton, so I know about a whole bunch of heroes. I also don't like hospitals. I had to go to one last year because Kacchan fell down a staircase and had to get stitches. It was scary. Why am I in the hospital? Did I also fall down a flight of stairs?" Izuku's voice was still horse, but he kept talking in an almost delirious state. Eraserhead almost didn't know how to respond to the rambling.

" Well, you're in the hospital because your… mother was attacking you in the streets. I was the one who stopped her." there was a slight hesitation before the word mother. He was saying the words, but didn't believe them. Before he could continue telling Izuku about the attack, the boy started talking.

"Mommy…" he sounded on the verge of tears, but his eyes were high and dry. "I- I used my quirk on mom… I think? I-I think i-it was my quirk, but, but.." short little gasps came out, like he was crying, but no tears came out. "I-is she ok? I-" he cut himself off before resuming. "I miss mommy." the little sobs grew more intense. What is Eraser supposed to do?

He hesitantly put his hand on Izuku's pale forehead, and gently pushed his hair out of his face. Izuku was still crying, little hiccups coming out.

"I-I'm scared. I-I want mommy. P-please."

"You're ok. I'm sorry, she cant be here right now. I know you're scared." Eraserhead tried to make his voice as soft and as calming as possible, but he was a gruff sort of man. Izuku was struggling to breathe now, his breath growing shallower and shallower, like he was grasping for scraps of oxygen.

"I-I" a hiccup. "I want to go home." his breathing was really strained now.

"Kid, I need you to breath. I know you want your mom, but right now, I need you to breath with me, OK?" Eraserhead really doesn't want Izuku to pass out. Again. He started to breath in the 4-7-8 pattern, and, to Izuku's credit, he was trying to breath with him, it was just that he kept hiccuping and wailing whilst trying. After about 3 minutes, he was able to get his breathing down to normal again. While this was happening, nurses were scurrying around and checking Izuku's vitals.

"I'm really tired." Izuku sounded exhausted, far, far too tired for a kid his age." I'm really sleepy."

"Than sleep. Besides, you need to get a blood transfusion. It would be better if you slept through it anyways."

Izuku closed his eyes, traces of bright light lingering behind his eyelids, before finally falling asleep.

[REDACTED] walked through a blood soaked street, two figures close behind. One was slim, lithe, and hunched over, sure to get back pain in a few years. [REDACTED] had always asked them to stand and sit properly, but they never listened. The other was a large, bulky man, silent and all encompassing. Suddenly, the thin one spoke.

" Goddamn it [REDACTED], what the hell are we even looking for? It can't be that important! I want to go home."

The large man spoke next.

"Silence, I'm sure whatever it is that [REDACTED] is looking for is important. He wouldn't waste out time. I'm sure of it."

It wasn't there. [REDACTED] sighed in disappointment.

"It's not here. I was so sure that ***** would be here. I am truly sorry for wasting our time."

The three figures stepped into a shadowed mist. [REDACTED] was sure that he would find it next time. He looked over his shoulder one last time, just to be sure, before stepping into the void. He would find ***** next time. He knew it. He would not let this plan go to waste.


	6. Chapter 5- a handmade ashtray

Yamada Hizashi hates 1:35 AM. It's a very specific time. It's not even that he doesn't mind staying up this late, and nothing really bad happened during that time in his past. But, a long time ago, when he was like 5, this shady dude on the streets who had this silvery white hair said something about 'bad things happening at 1:35 AM'. now when he thinks about it, the dude was probably just high or something, but now it's engraved in his head.

When he got a notification for a distress call at exactly 1:35, he couldn't help but get a shiver down his spine. It also didn't help that when he ran over to the location, who else would he see other than Shouta. When he got there, well, it wasn't the most… pleasant sight. 1:36. There was a long trail of blood in the opposite direction, and at the end of that trail was a crumpled up figure. A small crumpled up figure. A few feet apart was the all familiar whipping hair of Shouta.

"Woah , Shou, what the fuck happened here?" as much as Hizashi hates to admit it, he has a bit of a sailors mouth. Ok, he's lying, he swears about as much as a boomer complaining about how the newest generations are super lazy.

"No time to talk, I need you to check the kid's injuries, I'm kind of stuck here." now, another fun fact about Hizashi, he's known Shouta for a long time. They're best friends, if he can say anything about it. And well, he can definitely tell that the man is stuck between a rock and a hard place. The miniscule rise of tone in his voice, the emphasis on his vowels, the quickening of pace at the 5th word. He knows. And well, if he's asking, he'll do it.

Jogging, he goes to the tiny figure off to the right. Despite the oddly minimal amount of blood on the street, there is a ton of blood pooling around the kid.

There are several knives imbedded in various parts of his body. Well, that's not good.

"Fuck, these are some serious injuries." no shit, captain obvious. He begins wrapping some of the injuries. Strangely enough though, the kids heart rate seems perfectly fine. He can't feel anything odd there. There are a lot of injuries on the poor boy. The roll of gauze quickly runs low.

"Do you have extra gauze, I don't think I have enough." to his horror, more blood gushed out of the wounds. He's not quite sure if the kid will even live at this point.

"Oh god, that's a lot of blood. Once again, what the hell happened here?" he was curious, sue him. Don't actually sue him, he likes his money.

As Shouta tosses him a roll, he absent mindedly thinks about how tired he was. Shouta explained what happened to him, but honestly? He's just asking in hopes that he'll be able to distract him about what happened. He knows that Shou has a soft spot for children, his hatred for teenagers be damned. Now, Hizashi respond to shouta, and he's like 75% sure that he said something on topic, but if he said something totally wack, he can't really bring himself to care.

Hizashi may be slightly airheaded, but he can sure wrap a band aid well. He didn't go to that EMT course for nothing. The woman says something, but he's focusing on the kid. He can hear sirens a little bit away. Good. the kid should be ok. The medically trained people can handle it from here. 1:37.

Aizawa is certainly having a rough night. A very rough night. Definitely not the worst though. That one was when he had to stay awake for 3 days straight on a recon mission. Oh, boy you can bet your ass that he was knocked out for a while. This takes a close second though. Shouta had to ride with Izuku in the ambulance because none of this parents were… available. Turns out, that lady was Izuku's mother, thanks to a very frantic questioning on the detectives' part. And, well, you need an adult with a minor in the hospital due to the heroics medical act of 20XX. So, heres Shouta, sitting in the corner of an ambulance, watching a medic tend to the small pale boy.

Aizawa is still having a rough night. Now, he's sitting in a squeaky stool in the corner of a medical center, watching as doctors and nurses hover over the same small, pale boy, taking needles of blood and sticking tubes in his arms. IV drips filled with saline, and monitors all around Izuku. He's not quite sure what each machine does exactly, but they are all making beeping noises, filling the air along with the murmurs of doctors and nurses. He can't bring himself to listen. He may regret that later.

Aizawa is still having a rough night. Now, he's sitting in a very comfortable chair next to a bed with a small, sickly boy who's too small for the bed. The nurses finally got his exact blood type and are waiting for the blood bank to have the blood needed for the transfusion. His forehead is matted with sweat, and Shouta resists the urge to wipe it off of the boys forehead, but he's not the boys' legal guardian, so he's not allowed to touch the boy. The only time he's allowed to even think about comforting the boy is when he absolutely in need of emotional support He's super tired, but he wants to stay awake. Why? He's not quite sure.

Aizawa is having a rough night. He's now comforting a small, tired little boy, who wants his mother. He's always had a bit of a soft spot for children, he just can't help but care for small children. Not in a weird way though. If he could choose, he would probably be a daycare worker rather than a highschool teacher. And, well, this kid needs some help. All his friends, if given the chance, like to tease him about being a dad. Izuku is wailing over his shoulder. Izuku is in a bed though, so shouta is twisted uncomfortably over the bed, but whatever, kid first.

Aizawa is having a rough night, and he's tucking a small, pale, sick, tired kid into a hospital bed that's far too large for the little boy. His eyes are fluttering shut, and just as his eyes close for the night, Shouta distinctly notes that his eyes are a sparkling blood red. Huh, he thought the moms eyes were green. Oh well, genetics are weird. As Izuku's breath grew soft and steady, he felt his own eyelids grow heavy. As he drifted off to sleep, he never noticed that one of the nurses threw a blanket over him.

In a musty apartment building, a pair of red eyes stared out at the silent street below. Stacks of papers and bill lined the floors and coffee table. Damn it, [REDACTED] was supposed to be the one who has their life together. The supposed only sane one, the one who looks out for everyone else. But, no, [REDACTED] was sitting on his balcony, smoking a cheap cigarette. He sighed and quickly put it out on his arm. He didn't really feel pain anymore. And, well, [REDACTED] has a *** to open.


End file.
